Things we do for love
by Bananarama94
Summary: After the War of the Five Kings, Estella and her family try to get their lives back on track. But when Estella meets the 'Kingslayer' Jaime Lannister, everything gets even more confused. Both of them struggle with their past and the loss of beloved people. Will they be able to support, or even love, each other?
1. Chapter 1

"Estella, where are you?" she heard her mother calling. She picked up the last apples from the ground, checked them for worms and put the good ones into her basket.

"I'm here, mother," she called back as she made her way back to the little cottage her family called home. It was a home as simple as a home can be. Before the war, she had shared the cottage with her parents and her three brothers. Now she inhabited it with only her parents. Her brothers Dustin, Dendrick and Dean left their lives somewhere in the riverlands. At least that was what she and her parents believed. The war was over but her brothers had not returned home. Was there any other possibility left but death? Estella didn't think so, and it shattered her heart. Her father, who used to be a man as strong as a bear, had grown frail. Her mother, once full of energy, seemed to be fighting tears at every moment. It was up to Estella now to manage the property. She took care of the animals that were left, chickens, two pigs and a horse she had found weeks ago near the river. She cooked, she maintained the garden, and most of all, she took care of her parents, trying to make them smile and forget about their misery as best as she could.

"What is it?", Estella said, as she stepped up to her mother.

"Old Will Brix rode by a few minutes ago. He told your father that a host was about to arrive within a day's time. A host, Estella! Gods, what shall we do?" Her mother seemed most desperate, Estella could see the fear in her eyes, even more tearful than before.

"A war host?"

"I don't know. Old Will didn't say. But what if? They're going to kill us!"

"Calm down, mother, it will be alright...", but she wasn't sure.

The past few weeks the family had been confronted with outlaws and former soldiers, wolves and lions alike. But a host – that was new. And it scared her. She had felt it was her responsibility to take care of the outlaws, to keep her family save. It had been easy. All she had to do was lead the one who seemed to be in charge into the barn, trying to satisfy him, kiss away any aggressiveness she sensed, moaning words of loyalty. It was easy with a group of small men. But it wouldn't be as easy with a host, let alone a war host.

"Is that a horse?", her mother shrieked.

Estella heard it too. A horse, quickly approaching the cottage but still hidden behind a hill.

"Mother, get inside, be quiet, don't say a word. I will take care of it!", and she gave her mother a little shove before turning towards the sound of hooves.

It was one single rider. Crimson red. A Lannister man.

"You there!", he called from afar.

Estella stood still as a tree and waited until the rider stood right before her. He was a seasoned man. She could tell that he had fought many wars, but oddly, he did not scare her.

"Is this your ground?", he asked.

"Yes, it is indeed."

"In a few hours a host of Lannister men will arrive here. It seems a good place to camp out..." He looked at her, awaiting an answer.

She hesitated. "We can't feed a host of soldiers."

"That won't be necessary," he said. "All we need is your ground. It is well protected by the hill and the forest. Prepare for us. Our commander will be here in a few hours. We won't stay long. One night, maybe two."

"Well then," Estella shrugged. "In that case me and my family welcome you to our property."

"Good girl," the soldier chuckled as he turned his horse.

"Wait!" The Lannister man paused. "Who is your commander?"

He turned to face her. "The one and only Jaime Lannister himself."


	2. Chapter 2

After a long day's ride, Jaime withdrew himself into his tent. It was the largest tent by far and the center of the camp that was pulled up between a little cottage on the one side and a vast forest on the other. It would be another three days until they would arrive in Harrenhal, a visit he was not looking forward to. Harrenhal, where he dined with Roose Bolton and saved Brienne from the bear pit. It seemed so long ago, so much had happened since. His father dead, his brother gone, his sister growing more and more paranoid each day. She had commanded him to lift the siege at Riverrun, and if that was what she wanted he was glad to follow her order.

Pretty much everything was better than staying in King's Landing. He had never liked this place, the intrigues, the whispers, the disdainful glances of lordlings who called him "Kingslayer" behind his back. Apart from that, he was able to exercise his left hand with Ilyn Payne where no one could see and no one would talk. Lifting a siege was a fair price to pay for all that.

Peck had brought him a small supper of bread and roasted boar, but he wasn't hungry. Somehow he had not only lost his left hand but also his appetite. He sat at the table stuyding a card of the riverlands, when he noticed loud voices outside his tent. Ralwyn Prester entered the tent along with two of his men. One of them bled from his nose and looked rather furious, the other pulled a young woman after him. Her hair was in disarray and she bled from a burst lip.

"What is the meaning of this tumult out there?" Jaime demanded to know.

"She, my lord," Prester said, pointing at the woman. She had stopped struggling and stood upright, still bleeding from her lip. She looked Jaime directly in the eye. Green eyes, green like Cersei's, and they sparkled with silent fury.

"Who are you? A campfollower?"

"This bitch and her family shelter outlaws!" The man with the bleeding nose stepped forward. "She is a traitor and she attacked me, m'lord!"

"Is that true?", Jaime turned towards her. She looked calm, which seemed oddly out of place to him.

"No," she answered, holding his gaze, "It is not true."

"Liar! In the barn is a horse, a war horse! Do you think a peasant girl just went and bought a destrier? I do not!"

"Well," Jaime said, "I don't care what you think. What's your name?", he asked her.

"Estella. The ground your host is camping on belongs to my family. Yes, there is a war horse in our barn. But we didn't steal it. I've found it by the river and I kept it. The war has cost us dear, and we need a horse."

"What happened to your lip?"

She looked at her opposer with eyes as cold that it almost made Jaime shudder. "He wanted to take our horse away, and when I objected he hit me. I hit him back, just in case you're wondering why he's bleeding."

"Very well," he said, "Prester, you two, go. And leave the family and the horse alone. It's not yours to take. You," he pointed at the woman, "stay here."

"But m'lord...", her attacker cried.

"Enough! You heard me. Out!"

The men left the tent. And there she was left, standing upright and calm, with an attentive gaze. He looked her over. Long chestnut hair, a skin that told him that she was used to work out in the open. She had a slim waist, full breasts and long legs. She might have been considered beautiful, he thought, if she had more means than a peasant to dress herself up.

"Would you care for some wine?", he asked her. Slowly, she shook her head.

"My name is Jaime Lannister."

"I know. I've heard of you."

"Of course you have. Everyone has." He sat down on his chair. "I want to apologize for my men. They were told to keep to themselves."

"Then you should make sure they do, don't you think?"

He laughed. "You are quite lippy for a peasant girl."

"I have nothing to apologize for. We welcomed you to our grounds and this is how your men thank us. We've been through enough during the past months. We don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I," Jaime answered, "and that is why I will allow you to keep your horse." He looked at her, waiting for a sign of thankfulness, in vain. He cleared his throat. "Well, we won't trouble you for long. Tomorrow we will leave for Harrenhal. You may keep the horse and my men will not bother you anymore, I'll take care of that."

"Good. I take your word for it."

"It's the word of a Lannister, you may take it gladly and be sure it is kept."

She snorted, rather amused than scoffingly. "Very well, m'lord. May I go?"

For an instant he was reluctant. Later on he wouldn't even be able to tell exactly why he hesitated for these short seconds. Eventually, he unlocked the gaze, turned to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. Without turning back he said "Yes, you may," and took a deep gulp as Estella left the tent.


	3. Chapter 3

When she closed the door after her, Estella sank to the ground, letting go of the composure she had tried so hard to keep. Now that she was safely back in the little cottage, Estella couldn't help herself. She wept, all the tension flowing out of her tear by tear.

Her mother, who had waited fearfully while convincing her father that nothing was amiss, rushed to her, hugging her fiercely.

"What happened? Estella, is everything alright? What did they do to you?" As her daughter looked up to her, her face dirty and wet from her tears, she noticed her lip.

"Oh gods, they didn't... did they...?", she muttered.

"No, mother." Estella got up, regaining her poise. "Everything is fine. I just had a dispute with a soldier over our horse. But the problem is solved. Jaime Lannister..."

"The Kingslayer?!" Horror filled her mother's eyes.

"Yes, but he was not what I thought he would be like. He settled the matter and we may keep the horse."

"Did he do that to your lip?"

"No. No, he wasn't violent at all. It was my doing more or less. It was dark inside of the barn and I banged my head... my lip... it doesn't matter. It's fine. They will leave tomorrow."

Doubtfully, her mother looked at her. "If you say so, love. I just worried. I can't lose you, you know. I couldn't take it..." Now it was her mother's turn to cry, as it had been since she had realized that she had lost her three boys. Estella knew what she meant to her mother, and she regretted being so willful about that horse. Her mother was right, anything could've happened to her if it hadn't been for Jaime Lannister.

She embraced her mother, gave her a kiss on the forehead and decided to let go of the matter. "How is father?", she asked.

"Brooding. As always. He sits in the bed chamber by the fire. He doesn't know that something was amiss."

"Nothing was amiss, mother." Estella smiled. "I'll go and look after him."

When she entered the bedchamber that she shared with her parents, she saw the crooked shape of her father.

"Are the boys back?" His voice was frail, and it broke Estella's heart. He had never been like that until her brothers went to war, fighting for the Tully's. Before all that her father had been an energetic man who took care of his property and his family, a man who loved to laugh and eat and drink the ale he brew for himself. Now everything that was left of him was a shadow of the person that he used to be.

"No, father. It's not a war host." She lied. She didn't even know what the purpose of these soldiers was. All she knew was that they were Lannisters, and that was something she didn't care to tell him. For all she knew it could've been Jaime Lannister who killed one of her brothers, or all of them. Jaime Lannister, the man who had probably saved her life tonight.

"Come here, little one," her father said. All of a sudden, he started to cough violently. One of the fits that he had since the last winter, they came and they went, but she felt like they were growing more and more frequent. And more and more violent.

"It's okay," she said with her most soothing voice, "everything's alright. I'm here, mother is here. We're fine." She reached for a tankard of ale standing beside her father. "Drink this."

He took tiny sips but eventually his shuddering body calmed. He give her the tankard and looked into the fire. After minutes of just sitting there together, he turned his head to face her.

"Nothing is alright, little one. They took our boys from us, they will never return. How could anything be alright ever again?" And once again his body began to shudder. Not from a coughing fit but from the a fit of weeping. Weeping for his sons and everything he had lost due to the men who, unbeknownst to him, camped out on his very own property.


	4. Chapter 4

They set out early in the morning. Today, Jaime rode Glory. He sat silently in his saddle, pondering on what had happened the night before. He had not expected to make the acquaintance of people from the smallfolk, especially not a young woman as Estella. After she had left the tent, Jaime could not forget about her eyes, those green, calm eyes that were so similar to Cersei's. Once he had loved to get lost in those eyes but lately his sister's eyes had lost their appeal. They were the very mirror of her soul, disdainful and suspicious. She had been like that before, but her gazes of contempt had never been directed at him.

Yesterday, the peasant girl's eyes had reminded him of his sister as she was before. Not that there was any affection in her gazes. But she was calm, poised, fearless. He was used to being feared and respected, but the girl had taken her stand, and he was surprised to find himself fascinated by that. He knew very well what people said about him and he knew that even the smallfolk was familiar with the tale of how he had killed the king he was sworn to protect. It took the most courageous of men to withstand his gaze, let alone to object him. And there he had been, somewhere in the riverlands, facing a young woman who was either as bold as Barristan Selmy or as dim-witted as the oaf Boros Blount. He assumed that it was not the latter.

It took another three days until the host came in sight of Harrenhal. It was a monstrous castle with a monstrous history. But one thing had changed: he was in charge. The castle was back in Lannister-hands, and he had to settle some matters before he could continue his ride to Riverrun. He didn't like it but he had no choice but to name Baelor Butthole himself as the new castellan. He had been a part of Jaime's host, including his Holy Hundred. But for all he knew, Bonifer Hasty was as loyal as he could hope for and if he was to be honest, he preferred him to Littlefinger who could now name himself "Lord of Harrenhal".

He ordered his men to camp out in front of the castle for nothing would make him spend more time within these walls than necessary. He called for Ilyn Payne. Together they found a secluded place where they could practice without being noticed.

It had been a long day after many other days of riding and riding and even more riding. But Jaime knew that he couldn't miss an opportunity to have a session with Ser Ilyn. They had practiced every single night. Well, except for the night when they camped out at the cottage.

If they had fought with real blades, Jaime would have died eight times during the first half hour of their session. Ser Ilyn chuckled soundlessly while Jaime tried to compose himself after every blow the mute had dealt. But it was no use. Jaime was unfocussed, his arm ached and he knew that tomorrow, sitting his horse would be an utter nightmare. He almost could see his cheeks turning a darker shade of purple before his inner eye after every blow and every time he sat down ungently on his buttocks.

"That's it," Jaime declared after Ser Ilyn killed him for the eleventh time. By beheading, Jaime noticed, and he shuddered.

Back in his tent, Jaime lay straight down on his camp bed, bruised but happy with how smoothly things had gone in Harrenhal today. He closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. That night he dreamt of green eyes. Those loving, beautiful green eyes that he could sink into. But it weren't Cersei's eyes. They belonged to the peasant girl, Estella.


	5. Chapter 5

She stood by the stove, cooking a stew of potatoes and beets for supper. The host had left the day before and everything was quiet again. Well, everything but her father. The past two days his fits had become more violent and Estella was worried. She tried to tend to him with warm ale and by keeping the fire in the chamber burning. But all her attempts to ease is coughing would be to no avail.

"Oh love, what shall we do? I fear for your father." Her mother said, as Estella filled a bowl with hot stew.

"So do I," Estella said. Since her father's fit two nights ago, she could hardly think of anything else. She had to help him, but she was no healer and she had only limited knowledge of herbs. For one second she had thought that she knew what to do... but then again... no... she could not do that to her parents...

"Do you think he will... die?", she asked her mother, and regretted it once the words were out.

As soon as Estella finished the question, her mother's eyes filled with tears and she opened and closed her mouth in wordless outrage. "No, he will not! He cannot! He's a little sick, that's all."

Estella knew that wasn't true, that her mother denied the truth. But how could she not? She had lost her sons. Would she be able to endure the loss of her husband as well? Estella doubted it. And it made her even more afraid.

"I'll go and bring him some of the stew", Estella said and left for the bed chamber. As always, her father sat before the fire.

"Have my sons returned?" he asked.

"No, father. They haven't. But I've brought you something to eat. Vegetable stew and ale."

Her father coughed. The room was dim, only lit by the fire that grew weaker again. But it was light enough for Estella notice some blood on her father's sleeve.

"Eat this, father. You'll feel better."

He looked at her with a gaze that said "You know I won't." but he hadn't uttered hardly any word in the past two days except for: "Have my sons returned?" It broke her heart to say "No" over and over again, and she felt like everytime she said it, her father became a little more sick.

She knelt beside him, feeding him one spoon of stew after the other. But he didn't care to eat much and he denied her attempts to make him eat a little more. Instead, he kept looking into the fire. She wondered where her father had gone and who the man on this chair was. This man had wrinkles all over his face where her father used to have only wrinkles from laughing too much. His mouth was a thin line, the eyes, that used to be of a lively green, had turned the color of a dirty pond, his hair had gone from dark brown to a salty grey.

Estella got up abruptly and left the chamber, heading to the door of the cottage.

"Where are you going?", her mother called, still sitting by the kitchen table, crying.

"I... I have to take care of the horse. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Once outside the door she almost ran to the barn. Inside, she knelt on the straw, sobbing incontrollably. Why had this to happen to them? Wasn't it hard enough to survive without her brothers? And now, even her father, the strongest man she'd ever known, stood on the brink of dying? What would her mother do without him? What would they do? The two of them, how were they to survive? She didn't know. She didn't know.

But all of a sudden a voice inside her whispered: "You do know. You know exactly what to do."

Her sobbing died down and she was able to get up again. Slowly she moved towards the destrier. He was enormously tall, but strong. He had no name, none that she knew of. She stroked his long, muscly neck, getting calmer with every stroke. She knew what to do.

Her mother sat at the exact same spot where Estella had left her minutes ago.

"Estella... are you crying?"

"It's alright, mother. Listen to me now. We both know that father is sick, very sick-"

"He's not going to die!", she repeated stubbornly.

"I know, I know," she calmed her mother, "but he is sick, nonetheless, and we need to do something. I need to do something."

"But-"

"Listen. Neither you nor I know how to heal him, but in the castles they have maesters. And they know what to do."

"Your father could never make a journey to Harrenhal. He would not make it," her mother chipped in.

"You're right. He can't. But I can."

Her mother stared at her in shock. "No! No, I will not let you go! There are outlaws out there, and worse things besides. People talk about wolf packs that kill everyone that happens to get in their way. I will not let you travel alone!"

"And I will not. The host is making his way to Harrenhal. Hopefully they didn't get far. If I follow them on the morrow, I can catch up with them. Within a host I am safe and I can fetch some balms to ease father's illness."

"But they're Lannisters!"

Estella had thought about that, too. But she hoped that Jaime Lannister was true to his word and that he would have a keener eye on his soldiers than the last time.

"They won't hurt me. They won't even know I'm there. There are other campfollows, women as well."

She could read the doubt in her mother's face. But it was the only way. She had to make her see.

"If I don't go, father will die. I know it. You know it. I must get help, or we will be by ourselves in a fortnight."

Her mother had fallen silent. She sat there, looking at her hands on the table. After moments that seemed to last an eternity she eventually said: "Yes, you have the right of it. And it breaks my heart. I would go myself, but I can't, I know that. You have to go. I only wish we'd live in safer times. But you're strong. You always were, like your father. At least like he was before..."

Estella took her mother's hand. "I will be safe. I will go to Harrenhal, and be back as quickly as I can. I have a good horse. He will see me to Harrenhal in no time."

Mother and daughter smiled at each other. Her mother squeezed Estella's hand.

"Then go, child. On the morrow. Get some rest now. I will prepare everything you need."

On the morrow Estella entered the kitchen without having had a minute of sleep. Her father had coughed all through the night and she was nervous. But there was no way around it. Her mother had prepared her a bundle with bread, cheese and smoked pork. Estella went to the barn to saddle her horse. When she was done, she led it into the open. Her mother stood there, tears in her eyes.

"You will make it, child. I believe in you." Estella kissed her mother's cheek and climbed on the back of her horse.

"I will be back in no time," she said, smiling reassuringly.

She steered her horse in the direction the host had taken. It would be easy to follow, a host left its marks, even if it was comparatively small.

Now it was up to her to save her father. Up to her and her horse. Hope. She would call it Hope.


	6. Chapter 6

His host had grown considerably smaller after he left Harrenhal. But Jaime was glad for it. He had never had much sympathy to spare for religious fanatics. They would be put to better use at Harrenhal, he knew. His host was still large enough to see him safely to Riverrun. Even though he could not overhear the whispers among his soldiers. There were outlaws raiding the country, a woman was said to lead a group that left hung Freys and Lannisters at every tree they past, and then there were the wolves. But Jaime feared no wolves, neither animal nor human. Nonetheless, he was relieved he had armed company. Even more so because he knew that he could do not very much in his defense, except for knocking a wolf out with his golden hand. Jaime was brave, not stupid, and so he very much appreciated his company.

Today it was Honor's turn to carry him to his next destination, Darry. It would take the host four days to arrive at his cousin's castle. Lancel. He had not forgotten about him, particularly not after what Tyrion had told him the night he had set him free. Jaime still didn't believe it. He did not want to believe it. But then again, Jaime knew how much Cersei loved her family, in every way possible. He would find out, Lancel would tell him the truth, by force or otherwise.

As Jaime sat in the saddle his thoughts drifted back to the happier times with his sister. How she smelled, how she laughed, how she would shudder from the touch of his fingers. Now his touch would make her shudder still, but from disgust. The touch of a golden hand is cold, he thought to himself. And his mind took another turn. He had dreamt the night before. About Estella. The peasant girl with her green eyes. Why, he could not tell. Was it that she reminded him of Cersei? But then again, they were nothing alike. She was much younger, probably in her early twenties. It was unlikely that she had ever felt a man's touch, had ever loved a man the way Cersei had loved him. She was unmarried, as much as he knew. The day after they left the cottage behind, Jaime had asked some of his men what they knew about the people living there. A man, his wife, and his daughter. He doubted that she was the mother they talked about. They would have noticed a younger child, children were naturally attracted to knights and soldiers. But there was no child.

In his dream her skin had been as soft as silk and she was not afraid of him. She had kissed his golden hand and told him that she loved him and that everything would be alright. But her lip would still bleed and when he thrust into her she started to laugh until he understood what she was laughing about. Him.

"Did they take your hand, or your manhood?", she asked, laughing hysterically. Full of rage, he beat her with his golden hand until her head was nothing but a mushy mass. That was when he realized the golden hair beneath the bits of bone and brain. Had it been Cersei all along? Had he gone mad?

Jaime shuddered. It was better to put these thoughts aside.

"This is a good place to camp out and rest for the night, don't you think, my lord?", Ralwyn Prester said.

"Yes, it is. Tell the men to call it a day. Peck," he turned to his squire, "see that my tent is ready and that the horses are taken care of. Ser Ilyn. With me."

This session went way better for Jaime than the previous one. He died only eight times, his body would be raw on the morrow, though. But he would prefer an aching body to the turmoil that made his head hurt any time. He was all sweaty when he arrived back to the camp. His tent was ready, his men sat by their cookfires, and he wanted to look at some maps before laying to rest.

"My lord," Peck approached him before he could reach his tent, "there is a visitor waiting for you in your tent."

"A visitor?" Jaime had not expected any visitors, let alone here. "Who is it?"

"I... I don't know her, my lord."

"Her?"

"Yes, my lord. It's a woman. I've never seen her."

A campfollower..., he thought. He wondered when the whores that followed a host had become so bold. But he would not have it. He had a host to lead, a whore was the last thing he needed.

"I appreciate that you want to company but it is-" He paused abruptly, locked in the gaze of a pair of green eyes.

"You?", he said after a moment that it took to poise himself.

"I'm sorry, m'lord, I don't mean to disturb you or take too much of your time. I need your help."

Her hair was in disarray, just like the first time they had met, but she seemed not the least bit collected as she did the last time. She looked rather agitated, but beautiful all the same. Sketches of his dream appeared before his inner eye and he had to take his eyes away from her, oddly afraid that she might guess what he had just thought about.

"What kind of help do you need?"

"It is about my father. He is very sick. He might die, if no one tends to him."

"Well, Estella... that was your name, wasn't it?" He knew her name, of course. It had haunted his mind since the moment he first heard it. She nodded her head. "Estella, I would really like to help you, but I'm not a healer. If I were I'd grow a second hand, but as you can see," he lifted his hand to prove his point, "I'm not."

"My lord," she said, "I'm not here to be fooled."

That took him aback. She is bold, he thought again. Not many people had the nerves to talk to him like that.

"My father lies dying as we speak, and I need a healer, or a maester. I followed your host until Harrenhal, but they refused to help me. I'm not asking you to turn your host around, I'm only asking for a healer, a maester, or some medicine if you cannot spare anyone. Please."

The fact that she had been refused at Harrenhal made him regret his decision to install Hasty as castellan. He moved to the table, wondering what to tell this desperate woman. There was no maester in the host, and if he had one he could not spare him.

"In a few days we will arrive at my cousin's castle. Darry. There you'll find your maester, or any other help my cousin can offer you. I myself can't offer you anything but a safer journey."

He looked at her. She didn't move, but he saw that she pondered his words in her head. After a few moments she said: "Alright. Darry, then."

Without another word she turned and left the tent. Jaime did not move, unable to turn his head from the spot where she had stood only seconds ago. Only her smell remained – the scent of green grass, spring flowers and sunshine.


End file.
